I Promise You
by IAteTheCookie45
Summary: Cardoman and Isabella were both reaped for the Games. Different district, different personalities, different lifestyles. How can they be similar. Will they survive, or just be another pretty face lost in the games? I promise you will find out. Rated T for cursing. Rating will change to M.


**"I Promise You."**

**_How many times are those words overused. Especiallly now. I can't promise you anything. I might die, I might live. How am I to know. I won't promise anything, because I intend on keeping my promises, but I will tell you, I don't plan on dying without a fight. So, don't count me out. That's a promise._**

**Cardamon Hensley has lived her whole life in District Two. She trained there, she lived there, she loved there. But, what happens when she's reaped for the Sixty-Fifth Annual Hunger Games? Will she live? Or will she be simply another pretty face lost in the atrocity of the Hunger Games?**

**Isabella West has grown up in District Four. Her shy, reclusive personality has served her well, until she is reaped for the Sixty-Fifth Annual Hunger Games. Will her shy self be the death of her, or will she be able to throw it all behind to win the games?**

**_Follow two girls, two very different stories, two very different lives. How are they similar? That, I promise you, will be discovered._**

"Hey, Minnie," Anderson yelled as he climbed through the window of the two story walk up. "Shh!" came an urgent, yet still silky voice. "They'll hear us!" the voice whispered again.

Out of the shadows of the dark room came a tall blonde. Her hair was cropped short with side bangs. Her chin was pointed which complimented her electric blue eyes. Her stomach was toned from years at the training academy, as well as her arms and legs.

Anderson reached tiptoed across the room to give Cardomon a hug. She embraced him warmly. "I really don't want to go." Cardomon whispered into his chest. Anderson stood a head taller than her and rested his chin on her head. "I know, Minnie, I know," he whispered to her. "Why do I have to marry him? Shit, we're rich enough as it is." Cardomon said changing the subject. Anderson smiled his "Anderson smile." How else to describe it? It was his own. Not one other person's lips curled up the same way his did. The way his eyes looked playful yet sympathetic, like someone making a joke to keep from crying.

I was Cardomon. I was the tall blonde. I was the usually strong girl, everyone looked up too. I was the girl who would act flirtatious, but in reality I was self-conscious. I was the Games hater. I was the daughter of a Games lover. I was the fiancé of a recent victor. I was the best friend of Anderson, my one true love. I was living a horrible life, and the only thing I liked about it was Anderson.

I didn't always hate my life. It started only a few months ago. Usually, at school I would behave as the outgoing, popular, athletic, beautiful girl everyone loved, breaking records in the training academy by day and being the life of the party by night. I lied for my whole life, but I could deal with it. I had Anderson, the long blonde haired, blue eyed boy who had been my best friend.

That changed. I came home from school, as usual. My hair was straightened. My skirt was short, my makeup was still fine, everything was perfect, but my dad was home.

My dad is a games lover. He was never able to volunteer for the games, so he wanted to live his dreams out in his only daughter. I was forced, day after day, to practice in the training academy until I beat the records, until I knew a thousand ways to kill a person, until I knew how to survive in the games. I was to volunteer when I was sixteen, but I didn't. That earned a severe beating and bruises that lasted for a month and a half.

I had walked into the front door, very apprehensive. My dad looked at me and told me the news. I was to marry the recent victor of District Two, Jase McCoy. Don't get me wrong, Jase was plenty cute. He was muscular too, and clever, but he was possessive. You could see it in the games. He wanted to kill the tribute he despised, no one interfered. At home too, he wanted the pretty girl, and you so much as talked to her, he would punch you in the stomach. That is why I wasn't to keen on the idea, and of course, I loved Anderson, not Jase.

However, that is why I hated my life. I was living a lie, I was forced to marry someone I hated, and then, to top it all off, the reaping was coming up.

Anderson laid down in the bed with me. He stroked his fingers through my silky, short, blonde hair, and traced circles on my stomach with his free hand. I laid down on his bicep and gently fell asleep to his gentle motions, having nightmares flood my sleep filled with dying tributes, splattered blood, and pain. So much pain.

I woke up the next morning with Anderson gone. I tried as quietly as possible to throw away every piece of short blonde hair I could find that could resemble Andersons. I smoothed the bed and sprayed a huge amount of perfume in the air to try and rid the room of the smell of Rosemary and Tyme, Anderson's smell.

I quickly doused myself with a little bit too, to keep the Rosemary and Tyme smell off of me. I quickly walked downstairs to see my father and Jase in the living room. My mother, I could see, was in the kitchen, bustling around with coffee, tea, and small pastries.

My father and Jase seemed to be in deep conversation about something. I hoped not to disturb. However, my efforts were futile as I was soon spotted by Jase. His eyes brightened at the sight of me. I suddenly felt very self-conscious in the sweat shorts I was wearing. "Cardamon!" he said loudly, ushering for me to come near. His voice was not soothing like Anderson's.

I walked over to wear he was sitting, he stood up, gave me a kiss on the cheek and sat back down. I took a seat in the other seat of the loveseat. I quickly noticed as his hand snaked down below my waist, and was soon at my thigh, pushing me closer to him. I began to retaliate, but quickly stopped after I saw the death glare I saw. He didn't l_ook_ like he could kill, he looked llike he could murder in many painful, horrible, slow ways, all of which I witnessed a few years ago.

I only half-listened to their conversation until Jase nudged my shoulder, handing me a dress. The dress was short, about five or six inches above the knee, barely covering my butt. The material was tight and figure hugging and white. A pair of high heeled black shoes came with it. If he expects his fiancé to dress like this, how does he not expect other people to look at her? I looked at him briefly and nodded. His supposed smile was more of a smirk, and I walked up the stairs to my room. I quickly dressed, and immediately felt self conscious. I hated figure hugging clothing, and the fact that his dress was barely covering my butt made it worse. I quickly straightened my hair and applied some makeup and walked back down the steps. Jase was gone.

Soon after, my family and I left for the town square. The Town Square is huge. In the middle is a stage and screen where each year we watch Capitol propaganda and the reaping take place. I hated the square, far too much gold and people. I tried to appear as if I was having a good time, but being the scantily clad arm candy of a man you despised and then about to be faced with the prospect of a perhaps imminent death was not a basket of roses. _I am not to volunteer this year, I won't get picked, I am not to volunteer this year, I won't get picked. _I repeated this to myself over and over again. _I am not to volunteer this year, I won't get picked. _

Soon after we arrived they played the old Capitol propaganda and, Geneveivina, or as everyone called her Genna, our district escort, clacked her heels on the stage to walk to the front. Her hair was sky high and dyed a bright electric blue. Her dress was peplum style, the same color as her hair. Her heels matched her dress and hair, and a jacket with ridiculously big shoulder pads fell on her shoulders.

"Welcome to the Reaping of District Two for the Sixty- _Fifth _Annual Hunger Games!" Genna shouted into the audience receiving large amounts of applause. She grinned toothily. "Now, let's start with the ladies." She grinned again. My heart quickened its pace_. I am not to volunteer this year, I won't be picked. I am not to volunteer this year, I won't be picked. _"And our female tribute is…" Genna paused, I assumed for affect.

"Cardamon Hensley!"

I nearly died. I took a few minutes to regain composure. I could feel Jase's hand tighten slightly around my arm. I walked with as much elegance as I could muster, to the front of the stage. I batted my eyelashes at the crowd, and let my alter-ego take over. "You must be Cardamon!" Genna trilled. I nodded. I tried to look as sexy as possible, but still remain strong. I set my jaw, and looked out into the crown, narrowing my pupils. This earned a huge round of applause from the crown. "And it seems we have no volunteer!" Genna said light heartedly. "Please give a round of applause for our District Two, female tribute, Cardamon Hensley."

She then moved on with the same steps. "And our male tribute is…" she paused again.

"Robin Darracks!"

I could see a muscular boy, approximately my age walk on stage. He looked like the typical D2 boy. Muscular, blonde, blue eyed, attractive. Nothing I hadn't seen before. I batted my eyelashes at him. Might as well catch him off guard.

Robin did appear to be surprised. He smirked at me. I turned back to crowd and I could feel his eyes surveying me up and down, pausing carefully to survey my ass and boobs. Such a boy.

"Now, shake hands you two," Genna trilled in her high-pitched voice. Robin stretched out his hand. I snaked my hand out to meet his, daintily touching his. Genna then shooed us into the Justice Building.

I was quickly bombarded with friend after friend. Countless faces, countless names. I didn't care, I'd be dead or nearly dead in a matter of days.

My parents came in. My dad appeared angry, as if it was my fault for being in the games. My mom appeared sympathetic. Jase appeared, furious. He must have seen Robin look at me on stage. Oh well, Robin or I or both would both be dead soon. I didn't mind Jase ranting.

Finally, Anderson came in. He hugged me tightly. "Promise me you'll come home," he said, smiling his "Anderson smile." I smile back. I hated the words "I promise you." They are so overused, so easy to not say truthfully, so easy to kid around with. I look at him smiling a little. "I won't promise anything, but, I will say that I'll work my ass off to come home. That's a promise." Anderson laughed and hugged me one last time before peacekeepers lugged him out of the room. I was all alone.

I didn't know what I'd see. I didn't know if I'd live. I didn't know who I'd become, but I did know that I was going into the Hunger Games, and that wasn't going to change. I can promise you that.

**Hello Viewers!**

** This is my first Fanfiction, so I hope you like it. Tomorrow will be told from Isabella's POV, and then Cardomon's POV, so on, so forth. Please review and give me tips. I'd love to hear from you. Thank you for reading, and, how about the chapter length? longer, shorter? all up to you. Thanks again!**

** Bye,**

** ~ Jessie **


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